


Withdrawal

by VintageSkies



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Abuse, Addiction, Angst, Angst and Feels, Drug Addiction, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Literal Sleeping Together, Lyrium Addiction, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sleeping Together, Sleeptalking, Withdrawal, violent withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-03-17 17:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3538532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VintageSkies/pseuds/VintageSkies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen has violent withdrawals and accidentally hurts the inquisitor during one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jayde’s eyes fluttered open to the gentle morning rays glistening in from the window and a rather chilly breeze from the gaping hole in the ceiling. She muttered something to herself about ordering Cullen to get it fixed as she pulled on her smallclothes and breastband as carefully as possible so as not to wake the sleeping man beside her.

As she sat on the edge of the bed, she heard curses from his mumbling lips as he began to shake his head from side to side, turning away from some unseen enemy. With her brows furrowed in concern, Jayde swung her legs back onto the bed and tried to stroke the side of his face with her thumb. He murmured something incomprehensible and she continued, her heart steadily pounding in her ears. It was the first time she had spent the night with him, and though she thought she had prepared herself for something like this, seeing her love deal with such pain was immeasurably more difficult than she imagined.

She placed a single hand on his chest to try to calm the thrashing that was steadily becoming more violent. Without warning, he lashed his arm out and connected with her hip, his mumbling much clearer this time: “ _leave me.”_

She cried out, half pain, half surprise, and with a gasp, Cullen jolted upwards. Despite herself, Jayde sat upwards, doubled over, trying to ignore the throbbing pain that emanated from her hipbone. Her smallclothes hid most of the evidence, though her skin was rapidly reddening and her natural milky tone did nothing to hide it. She was torn from her inspection by the sound of Cullen’s feet pushing against the mattress until his knees were in his face and his entire body clenched into the tightest ball he could form.

“No…” he was muttering, his head shaking back and forth once more but this time it was more controlled, deliberate.

“Cullen,” Jayde whispered, her voice gentle and lacking all reproach. She placed her hand softly, carefully on his knee. He tried to pull away, but already his back was against the headboard. “Cullen, please,” she inched forward.

“D-don’t get _any_ closer!” His voice trembled nearly as much as his hands. She listened. “Maker, I’m so sorry… _so_ sorry.” He grabbed a fistful of hair with each hand and shuddered as he exhaled slowly.

“It’s all right, Cullen.” Jayde struggled to keep herself still. Everything was telling her to be near him, comfort him, tell him she was okay. Yet any little sign of affection seemed to be making things worse, so forced herself to stillness and observation.

“All right?!” He bellowed, “this is far from ‘all right.’” Jayde jumped slightly at the tone of his voice, something she hadn’t heard but once or twice before, and never directed at her. Her voice hitched in her throat as she held back a wince from the sudden movement, but she may as well have sent a dagger through his heart. Cullen nearly flew out of the bed, stumbling over his own feet as he stalked to the other side of the room in a vain attempt to put as much distance between himself and her as possible.

“Leave,” he demanded, his back to her and his hands in fists so tight his knuckles were white.

Frozen, hands still on the buttons of her overshirt, Jayde debated what to do. She stood in the middle of the room and raised her foot to take a step, but the floorboard creaked and Cullen snapped around,

“I said _get out_.” His voice exploded through the contained quarters and made her jump. She grabbed the remainder of her clothes and scrambled towards the ladder. She turned to face him one last time before she descended. He stood with his forearms pressed to the wall, his neck and back slouched, and shuddered.  

At the bottom of the stairs, Jayde slipped on her clothes before heading towards the eastern door. She stopped before she reached the handle, unable to bring herself to leave when she knew he needed her most.

At the top of the stairs, Cullen listened to her descent. Each step drove the knife deeper and deeper, and the hollow thump of her touching the floor finally twisted the blade. Blood was pounding in his ears and he started to pace, mumbling to himself.

“Never should have…how could I…hate me…deserves better.” The last line made him freeze in place. His anger was rising, like a tidal wave he knew he couldn’t control. He felt it begin in his stomach, the tingling slowly spreading to his limbs until he found himself throwing a chunk of discarded wood across the room with a barbaric yell. He collapsed to the floor, defeated, drowning in a pool of self-hatred.

Below, Jayde stiffened. She kept turning her head between the door and the ladder. She wanted to climb back up if only to talk; she wanted to help. Minutes passed, yet she was unable to make up her mind. She had never dealt with something like this before and her contradicting inner dialogue attested to it. By the time she made up her mind to just try, try to calm him down, she became acutely aware of footsteps.

The upstairs had been calm for minutes now, not a single sound made its way to the lower level. In truth, the silence was more frightening than any sound could ever be, and it was probably the prolonged silence that finally nudged her to almost action. She was about to move towards the ladder when she saw a shadow appear from above. Holding her breath, for surely he didn’t know she had never left, Jayde watched as Cullen adjusted something and began to pull the ladder upwards, just out of reach.

The shadow disappeared and Jayde found herself vaguely disappointed. Quietly, she made her way to Cullen’s desk and carefully sat down. Finding some parchment and his quill, she dipped the tip into the inkpot and began:

_My love,_

_I want nothing more than to comfort you during this time, but it seems my presence only makes things worse. You should know, I partially blame myself. I am not adept at handling these situations, and as such, I now realize I should not have tried to wake you. Please, do not blame yourself. It was accident; they happen. I do hope we can talk about this. I would greatly appreciate it if you sent word once you receive this. There is but one thing you need to know – I love you. I still love you. I will always love you._

_I am here for you._

_Yours forever,_

_Jayde_

She paused to blink away the tears, though her effort came too late and one slipped down her nose and onto the parchment. It fell just beside her lofty signature and caused the ink to branch out and the paper to crinkle. Sighing, she folded the paper regardless, sealed it, and wrote his name on the front. She stood up and headed towards the door, but an afterthought took her mind and she quickly returned to the desk. She wrote another letter, this one quicker and less formal:

_My dear,_

_I leave this note in case the other is somehow misplaced. Please come find me, for I have something I wish to tell you. If I do not see you before sundown, please do not be startled I spare you a visit._

_With love, as always,_

_Jayde_

This note she left unfolded in hopes his eyes would scan the words and get the message regardless of whether he intended to or not.

Finally satisfied, she placed the note beside the folded one, put away the quill and inkpot, and softly strode towards the door. With her palm firmly resting on the handle, she turned to look at the ladder, still hanging in the air like a silent warning.

 _Andraste take his pain away_.


	2. The Dawn Will Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It always gets worse before it gets better. Cullen visits Jayde after the withdrawal outburst in his office.

She leans, forearms against the railing, the loose strands of hair around her eyes lightly fluttering in the calm breeze. It’s quiet, the balcony far above any bird’s nest and perfectly tucked between the mountainside. And she’s…singing.

_The night is long_

_and the path is dark._

_Look to the sky_

_for one day soon_

_the dawn will come._

The words seem angelic. Images of the campfire after Haven flash across Cullen’s vision. Hours of arguing, shouting, voices hoarse yet all too stubborn to give in. He glances over, the inquisitor’s small frame illuminated by the shadows of the tent. He yearns to touch her cheek, mumble his feelings into her ear. Maker, he almost lost her and she would have never known how he felt. Repressed feelings of doubt and apprehension bubble to the surface from some unknown rift in which he stored them; he feels his stomach clench.

Surely, no living creature should have a voice so soft and sweet, yet here she stands. Cullen tilts his head and closes his eyes as if this simple gesture will amplify the sound. He opens them, acutely aware of the slight waver in her voice. It renders a knot in his throat and he finds all the confidence and courage he spent gathering on the way over has instantly spilled away and he is left empty. Heartbeat quickly increasing, he turns at the top of the stairs to face the door and is betrayed by the squeaky floorboard. _Andraste’s ass, I should have known better._

“Cullen?” The voice is soft yet it hits him harder than a pommel blow to the back of the head. He freezes in place, blood pounding in his ears, silently debating his next move. He finally turns back around.

“Jayde, I –” the dying sunlight illuminates the stains down her cheeks and his voice is lost. He clears his throat, once, then twice. “About your letter.” He chokes out. He fails to add – _I’ve read it precisely fourteen times; it’s still crumpled in my breast pocket._

“What about it?” she blinks; her eyelashes are no longer wet but still clumped together.

“It’s just that, I think we should, that is, I think _I_ should…” he takes a step forward, out of the shadows. She can see him clearly now – his hair uncharacteristically disheveled and unruly. His eyes, rimmed with red but dry of tears, the honey amber of his iris seemingly glowing like the remnants of an overnight fire.  

“You help me, guide me, and forgive me, and this is what you get. _This_ is how I repay you!” His trembling hand points towards her hip. Jayde remains silent and uncomfortably covers the area with her hands even though she is fully clothed. She still doesn’t blame him, maker how _could_ she. She urgently prays for some answer to how she can heal his pain. What can she do that won’t make it worse? _By the light of the Chantry, someone help me._

He’s pacing now, his boots rhythmically thumping on the hardwood but muffled slightly by the carpet.

“Don’t you hate me?” he shatters the droning melody. He stands near the railing, gazing out the window before he finally turns to face her.

She shakes her head.

“I do,” his voice is so soft she nearly tricks herself into believing she’s made it up. She dispels her short lack of focus with a quick blink and a rather ungracious cough as she realizes she’s forgotten to breathe. In front of her, Cullen has already made it halfway down the stairs.

“Cullen, please!” She grabs his wrist and he recoils with a hiss of air that escapes between gritted teeth. “Cullen?” she can barely hear her own voice over the drumming heartbeat in her ears.

“It’s nothing,” he tries to flex his fingers and his face contorts uncontrollably. She gently runs her fingers over his hand and the swollen knuckles. Her mind flashes back to his office, the bookshelf, and she doesn’t even need to ask. He watches her look over him and it takes all his remaining courage to pull away.

“Please, Jayde. I’m no good for you. How can I show you love and compassion when I don’t even love myself?” She opens her mouth but he shakes his head. “No, don’t answer that. Just…just know that I appreciate your help and sentiment…inquisitor.”

With that, he turns and continues down the stairs. Shoulders square and back straight, his posture portrays the fake resolve that melts away as soon as the door closes behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by a post on tumblr and fatally-procrastinating's short drabble with the idea that Cullen has a ladder to his room that is removable because he knows he can have violent withdrawals. You can find the post and drabble here: http://fatally-procrastinating.tumblr.com/post/113477003526/exposed-mama-artsyneurotic-eternalshiva


End file.
